


locker notes

by nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 04:24:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11005923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare/pseuds/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare
Summary: Shion and Nezumi are in their last year of high school with unspoken crushes that only come to light when Nezumi slips a note in Shion's locker.





	locker notes

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote and posted this in February, 2015.
> 
> I'm reposting some of my old fics from the many accounts I previously deleted over the past few years, so if you're familiar with my fics and want to request that I repost a certain old fave, feel free to message me at my tumblr: http://coolasamackerel.tumblr.com or comment on this post: http://coolasamackerel.tumblr.com/post/160488980276/danielles-nezushifree-fics and I'll be happy to consider reposting it! For both my new readers and my old guys, hope you enjoy the fic!! :D

His name is Shion, and Nezumi has never spoken to him until senior year, when their lockers are next to each other.

            Nezumi is usually late for school, but this year is different; he is on time every day, a little early some days because he notices Shion is often early, and this way they are at their lockers in the morning at the same time, Nezumi staring at his combination as he spins his lock, occasionally glancing sideways to watch Shion’s fingers spin his lock.

            He memorizes Shion’s locker combo, which is a feat, as he often forgets his own.

            _9-7-6._

            One day he comes to school late, and Shion isn’t at his locker.

            Nezumi glances down the hall, once, twice, a third time, makes sure it is empty, then spins in the memorized combination.

            It clicks on 6, and he swings the door open, glancing at Shion’s neatly stacked books, carefully hung jacket.

            Nezumi slips his hand in his jeans pocket, fishes out his folded note, tucks it in the pocket of Shion’s jacket.

            He closes the locker, then walks to class, humming quietly.

*

Everyone has had a crush on Nezumi at some point during high school, but the difference between Shion and everyone is that the latter group seems to have some grasp on reality, while Shion still has his head in the clouds.

            At least, this is what Safu informs him, as Shion stands at the end of the hall, hugging his books to his chest, having stopped on the way to his locker because Nezumi is at his, which happens to be adjacent.

            “Why are we stopping?” Safu asks, before following Shion’s gaze and noting Nezumi, after which she informs Shion of his irregularity from the group of everyone.

            “Well, how does everyone else just get over him?” Shion asks, leaning against the wall and nearly sighing, but he likes to think he’s not that pathetic.

            “I should amend my statement. Not _everyone_ feels the desire to form a romantic relationship with Nezumi, just those sexually oriented towards males. Although I have heard a few instances of people claiming Nezumi ‘turned them gay or bisexual,’ but I highly doubt that is the case, simply regarding the nature of sexual orientations. It is more likely that – ”

            “Wait. Have you had a crush on him?” Shion asks, turning to his friend, who glances from Nezumi back to him.

            “I am not immune to his physical attraction, if that is what you are asking. Since I do not know much of his personality, I cannot say whether we would be romantically compatible, but it is undeniable that his genealogy has provided him with unnaturally pleasant and remarkable features,” Safu replies, and Shion looks back at Nezumi.

            “Yeah,” he agrees, softly.

            “My grandmother is expecting me soon, so I think it would be prudent to continue moving towards your locker now. If you’re done watching Nezumi from afar, of course,” Safu says, offering Shion a smile, and he manages to smile wanly back.

            “Maybe I’ll talk to him today,” he suggests.

            “Sure,” Safu agrees, and Shion laughs, knowing his friend doesn’t believe him and not minding one bit, as he doesn’t believe himself either.

            When he gets to his locker, Nezumi has already started walking away, and his eyes catch Shion’s as they pass each other.

            Shion cannot help but think Nezumi’s gaze lingered a moment too long to classify as strictly casual.

            “Did you see that?” he demands, grabbing Safu’s wrist the moment Nezumi has passed them.

            “The extreme hue of your blush? Why, yes, I did see it, and in fact am currently seeing it still as we speak,” Safu replies, patting Shion’s hand, but Shion is not deterred.

            “He looked at me.”

            “In that case, are you considering a spring wedding, or summer?” Safu asks, as Shion attempts to open his locker, but keeps skipping his numbers by accident, which may have something to do with his skipping heart.

            “I can’t open this,” he mutters, giving up after three attempts, and Safu pushes him lightly out of the way.

            “What’s your combination?” she asks, and Shion tells her, watches her open his locker and thanks her as he fishes out the books he’ll need that night before grabbing his coat.

            “You’re right. I need to stop fixating on him. It’s irrational,” Shion says, as they walk out of the school.

            “I never said that,” Safu objects, leading them across the grounds, pass the lined-up buses that they don’t take, as both their houses are a walkable distance.

            “You said I had my head in the clouds!” Shion says, looking at his friend, who nods.

            “Oh, yes, you certainly do, and I do believe it’s irrational for you to have such strong feelings towards a person you hardly know. However, I do not think you need to stop fixating on him.”

            “You don’t?” Shion asks, maybe a little too hopefully, because Safu laughs as she links her arm through his.

            “You could always talk to him,” Safu suggests, as if such a suggestion is so easily followed.

            “What would I say?” Shion groans.

            “I find you to be a very satisfactory conversationalist,” Safu says, and Shion squeezes her arm thankfully.

            “I have a feeling that my conversation might not hold up around Nezumi,” he says, and Safu nods.

            “Hormones can be quite detrimental to one’s social skills,” she points out, and Shion agrees gravely.

            Her house is first on the way, and Shion sees her off with a hug before continuing to his house, two blocks down. The wind picks up as he walks, and he huddles into himself, tucking his hands in his jacket pockets – there is something crinkly in his right pocket, and he extracts it curiously.

            It is a folded piece of paper. The paper flutters in the wind as Shion holds it up, unfolds it with careful fingers.

            The scrawl is cramped and unfamiliar, and Shion’s eyes trail to the signature before reading the brief contents, which makes his fingers limp so that the note is out of his hand, floating away in the wind before he can read it, and he is left to chase after it – but only after his heart can restart, of course.

*

Nezumi arrives early to school, still groggy and pulling his hair up as he walks to his locker.

            Shion is at his own locker, and Nezumi is careful not to look at him as he stops beside him.

            “Good morning,” Nezumi says, to his locker, fingers spinning his lock without any real purpose.

            “Oh, hi,” Shion replies, and Nezumi glances at him, but cannot see him, as Shion’s open locker door stands in the way.

            Nezumi glares at the green slats until they are disappearing as locker door is swung shut, and the object of Nezumi’s glare is replaced by wide red eyes.

            “Yes,” Shion says, suddenly, and Nezumi relaxes, feels his lips turn up.

            He attempts to speak around his own involuntary smirk. It’s just a reflex, after all – he doesn’t think he’s ever heard anyone say anything so earnestly.

            It’s almost alarming, how cute this Shion is.

            “Okay. Good,” Nezumi replies, and Shion offers him a smile that continues spreading even as the kid nods and turns away, closing his locker door before he walks down the hall.

            Nezumi stares after Shion as he walks, watches him leave, then quits pretending to open his own locker and reopens Shion’s, slipping another note into his jacket pocket before closing it again.

*

“Please tell me you said yes,” Safu says, clutching the note Shion only managed to read after climbing a fence and chasing the scrap of paper around a public playground that had been closed for months due to a swing set that was declared “unnaturally dangerous.”

            “I said yes,” Shion confirms, taking back the note and refolding it carefully along the original seams.

            “And his reply?”

            “He said, ‘Okay. Good.’ And then I walked away,” Shion recaps, his smile getting in the way of his words.

            “Why did you walk away?” Safu asks, crunching on a piece of celery.

            “Well, I thought I was doing rather well conversation-wise at that point, and there is that expression to quit while you’re ahead,” Shion explains, and Safu nods, grinning slightly.

            “Of course. Very wise.”

            “Do you think so?”

            “Not entirely,” Safu replies, laughing when Shion makes a face.

            “Do you think it’s a date?” Shion asks, after they have fallen into silence for several minutes.

            Safu considers. “I think,” she says finally, “that it is equally likely and unlikely. Likely due to his course of action – a note in your jacket pocket is incredibly personal and would take planning and effort on his part. Unlikely due to the nature of your relationship, which was, until this moment, virtually nonexistent.”

            “I think it might be a date,” Shion replies, because Safu, though unwaveringly honest, cannot always be counted on to be reassuring.

            And besides, she did not see the way Nezumi looked at him, when he said _Okay. Good_ , and really, the look said quite a lot in favor of the date possibility, in Shion’s opinion.

*

Nezumi cuts class early, returns to Shion’s locker before any of the students are let out into the hall, opens it, extracts the second note from Shion’s jacket pocket, places it back in his own pocket, then closes Shion’s locker.

            He stands with his hand on Shion’s closed locker, shakes his head, laughs a bit at himself, but really there is nothing funny – he has no idea what is happening to him, why he feels so disoriented, why he is writing notes and sticking them in this kid’s jacket pocket, why he is suddenly rather unable to focus on anything but Shion’s too-wide smile.

            He breathes deeply, waits for his usual calm and composure to return, but instead, the last bell rings, and Nezumi nearly jumps – there is definitely something wrong with him – extracts his hand from Shion’s locker as if burned, and strides quickly to the school theater to set up.

*

Shion has gone to every school play, of course.

            Basically, the entire school goes because, as Safu pointed out, everyone has at some point had a crush on the lead actor of each production.

            Shion has never, however, received a personal invitation from said lead actor in form of a note slipped in his jacket pocket, and so attending this particular play feels different than every previous attendance.

            Safu sits beside him, nose in the playbook a student usher handed them as they walked into the auditorium.

            “Stop tapping your foot, it’s distracting,” she says, into the playbook, and Shion clamps a hand on his knee in an attempt to stop.

            “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m nervous.”

            “Neither do I. You have absolutely no reason to be. He invited you to a play everyone in the student body is invited to.”

            “Yeah, but he invited _me,_ ” Shion stresses, glancing at his friend, who peeks above the playbook skeptically.

            “Would you like to see his picture?” she asks, and Shion nods, maybe a little too eagerly.

            Safu hands him the playbook, and he stares at the picture of Nezumi that must have been taken when he was not aware, as he is not looking at the camera like the other students, but instead intently reading his script.

            “Dreamy, isn’t he?” Safu whispers, in Shion’s ear, and Shion jumps in his seat.

            “He is, actually, very much so,” Shion replies, in a confident voice he hopes will regain some of his dignity, but he doubts this is the case.

            The lights in the auditorium flicker on and off – the five-minute signal – and Shion settles in his seat and stares at the curtains, waiting for Nezumi to emerge.

*

Family of the other students in the play are ushered into the hall where the backstage door leads out so that they can congratulate their sons, daughters, and siblings after the play is over, and Nezumi slips quickly through them as he does every year.

            His eyes, unlike his fellow castmates’, do not scan the crowd for familiar faces. He only ever sees his own familiar faces when he is asleep, after all.

            In an empty hallway, Nezumi leans against the wall to catch his breath, unsure why it needs catching, then walks slowly to his locker.

            There is no reason to, what with his second note in his pocket instead of the pocket of Shion’s jacket, but he does so anyway, enjoying the emptiness of the hallways that are far from the auditorium.

            At his locker, Nezumi stops, attempts to remember his combination again, gets it on the third try and opens the door. His battered script is on top of the heaps of books jammed at the bottom, and he bends to pick it up so that he can throw it out just as he hears a voice beside him.

            “You were amazing,” the voice says, and Nezumi straightens up to Shion.

            He tucks his fingers into his jeans pocket, feels that the note is there – so it is just a coincidence, then, meeting Shion at their lockers after the play as he requested only in undelivered written form.

            “Thank you,” Nezumi replies, tucking his bangs behind his ear.

            “I, um, I didn’t think you’d be here. I was just going to leave a note in your locker,” Shion says, and Nezumi raises an eyebrow.

            “You know my combination?” he asks, closing his locker and leaning on it, listening to his own heart as it shakes his chest in a peculiar way.

            “No. I was going to slide it through the slat,” Shion says, gesturing to the slats in the lockers with a hand that holds a folded piece of paper.

            “Rather risky note-placing, don’t you think? I have a lot of papers in my locker, it might easily get lost among them,” Nezumi replies slowly, tracing his eyes along Shion’s features now that he has a chance to do so up close and without interruption.

            “I didn’t consider that,” Shion muses, a crease appearing between his eyes that Nezumi delights in observing, memorizing.

            “Lucky for you, I have another suggestion,” he offers, leaning closer simply because he can, simply because he wants to.

            Shion does not reply, only stares at him, and Nezumi pauses to note that even his eyelashes are snow white.

            “Since I am conveniently at your service, you could simply hand the note to me. Less sophisticated, but equally effective – even more so, in this case, I believe,” Nezumi says, lifting his hand and opening his palm to Shion, who stares down at it before placing the note against his skin.

            He does not let go of the paper at first, simply holds it in Nezumi’s hand, but after a breath it is relinquished, and Nezumi curls his own fingers around it.

            “Shall I read it here, or is it,” Nezumi pauses, smiles slightly, speaks deliberately, _“private?”_

            Shion does not break his gaze. “You can read it here,” he replies, so Nezumi is the first to look away and unfolds the note slowly, reads it quickly but carefully.

            He refolds it, tucks it into his pocket, glances back at Shion, who watches him expectantly.

            Nezumi licks his lips. Takes his time to deliberate even though there is absolutely no need to deliberate, there is absolutely nothing to think about, the answer is ready and waiting, and he gives it up a second later.

            “Yes,” he says, and he is treated to the wide grin again, as easy as that, so simple to conjure that Nezumi cannot help but feel amazed if a little wary.

            “Okay,” Shion replies, beaming at Nezumi, who is bewildered by such a gaze. “Good.”

            Nezumi blinks, and then Shion is walking away again, leaving Nezumi standing at their lockers, already thinking of the contents for his next note.

*

The next morning, Nezumi is not at his locker when Shion gets there, and Shion lingers, taunting the warning bell until he knows he needs to start heading to class.

            At lunch, Safu confronts him. “Well?”

            “It was a date,” Shion replies happily.

            “Did he leave another note?”

            “No. He was at our lockers after the play, so I gave him my note in person, and he answered yes. That it was a date.”

            “What did you do next?” Safu asks, and Shion bites his lip.

            “I left again.”

            “You walked out on your own date?” Safu asks, a little more skeptically than Shion would prefer.

            “Technically, it may seem that way – ”

            “It only seems that way because it was indeed that way,” Safu interrupts, and Shion winces.

            “I was being coy.”

            “Shion, when has coy ever been one of your characteristics?”

            “I thought I’d give it a try,” Shion replies, defensively, but Safu just dismisses him with a shake of her head.

            “I don’t think your try was very successful. You deserted your own date.”

            “You can stop saying that,” Shion moans, picking at the crust on his sandwich.

            “Don’t worry, I’m sure even your failure will not have too serious of a consequence on Nezumi’s affections towards you,” Safu says, and Shion looks up at her in surprise.

            “Really?”

            “Judging from the way he is staring at you from across the cafeteria, yes,” Safu replies, and Shion nearly cracks his neck twisting around to look where Safu’s gaze has lingered.

            Indeed, Nezumi is watching him as he walks along the side of the cafeteria, an apple in hand that he raises to his lips as Shion catches his gaze.

            He takes a bite, and Shion stares as he licks the inside of his wrist, presumably to catch a trail of wayward juice.

            “Is this open-mouthed gaping you’re exhibiting another attempt at coyness?” Safu asks, from somewhere miles away, and Shion can do nothing but nod, not entirely sure what she is saying and hoping a nod will suffice.

**

Nezumi is about to tuck his forty-sixth note in Shion’s jacket pocket when it is snatched from his fingers.

            “Too slow,” Shion sings, unfolding it under Nezumi’s glare.

            “Your tact for ruining romance is unparalleled. Remember when you walked out on our first date?” Nezumi asks irritably, leaning against his locker to watch Shion read the note.

            “I was being coy!” Shion stammers in his usual outraged response, cheeks darkening as he looks up from the note to glare in his flustered way at Nezumi, who smirks back. “And it obviously worked because here we are now!”

            “Indeed. Here we are now,” Nezumi replies, rolling his eyes and waiting for Shion to get back to the note – it’s a bit of an important one, after all.

            “You’d think after five months you’d drop it,” Shion mutters, irresistibly irritated, and Nezumi raises his eyebrows.

            “Are you going to read the note, or must we be late for class?”

            “When have you ever been concerned about that?” Shion retorts, but he resumes reading the note, his mouth immediately dropping.

            Nezumi shakes his head. So predictable, this gaping idiot.

            “Are you serious? I thought you absolutely hated – ”

            “Are you going to answer or what?” Nezumi snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and regretting the goddamn note Shion is now clutching rather tightly to.

            Instead of answering, however, Shion leans forward, presses his grin to Nezumi’s lips, where it melts into a kiss that Nezumi reciprocates, forgetting that they are in school and not in the privacy of Shion’s bedroom, where this practice most often takes place.

            It is Shion who pulls away, reminding Nezumi of their setting before he can weave his hands in Shion’s hair as he was about to, and Nezumi exhales deeply onto Shion’s lips, looking down at him lazily.

            “Is that a yes?” he murmurs, and Shion smiles his ridiculously wide smile that Nezumi still finds himself just as startled by.

            “Yes,” Shion replies, too earnestly as usual, and Nezumi, who had not – before Shion – ever even given one thought towards going to prom, cannot help but grin back, his smirk a little wider than usual.

            “Okay,” Nezumi says. “Good.”

 

THE END


End file.
